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9.7.11 - 11:00 pm
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My skin has been scratched raw by the insufferable itch of finality.
I have become publically volable and found myself brooding over the fact.
And yet...so disarticulated.
Isolation from the concious awareness has become the key device in preserving my flimsy grasp of my current plight; a circumstance unbarable. As he took his last breath, I was not there, nor for the last one thousand.
Yet, when I was, every breath meant so much.
The smell of pipe tobacco lingering in the the back streets of the city convinced me that he was close by.
He'd squeeze my hand and make promises he knew he couldn't keep; he knew he shouldn't keep.
A gentleman's hand holding a little girls heart; "the light of my life", he'd say, "the apple of my eye".
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7.26.11 - 5:41 pm
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In a few swift moments, my calculator has been destroyed. Completely unusable. I am in the middle of two math courses and its $150 to replace. I'm too broke for this bullshit.
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